The Fourth of July is my birthday. For years I thought all the fireworks and picnics and parades were just for me, and, boy, did I feel important. Then I found out that 99.99 percent of the American public was celebrating Independence Day, and just my family cared about my birthday.

When I matured, just last year, I got over the disappointment and was thrilled to share my birthday with America. I get tingly all over when I hear “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

Just this week, I found out I share my birthday with another significant event. Perhaps not as important as the independence of a nation, but still pretty significant.

I know this is a big holiday weekend here in the States, but if you have time and are interested, stop by tomorrow and discover the surprise. It’s a good one.

Have a happy birthday. You might be interested in a short story I wrote about a child with the same birthday as you. I wrote it ages ago, as a way to practice POV. I’d never written anything from a child’s viewpoint before (and I haven’t since.)